Scarred
by YamiKatie
Summary: One night, Ryou comes home late after promising his yami he would be on time. In punishment, Bakura cuts Ryou's face sixteen times, once for every year of his life...
1. Created

A/N: this fic is going to be a series one, with around five chapters. I'm extremely pleased with how this first chapter turned out (I simply put my pen to the paper and it all piled out) so I'd really appreciate reviews. It is going to be pretty angsty all the way through, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing, I think. And NOT a total straight-forward abuse fic, despite first appearances.

Chapter One: Created

"And next we're playing Kylie's 'Red Blooded Woman!' Get dancing, people!"

The DJ's voice, warped and tinny through the microphone, was accompanied by a dull thud, magnified many times beyond its normal volume, as additional speakers were switched on. Ryou Bakura, flushed and panting from three hours of vigorous dancing, made his way through the mass of whirling, gyrating bodies, face and hands dappled with lurid colours from the neon strobe lights. The time was nearly eleven and he was leaving, but nearly everyone else was in no such hurry; content to dance or stand around and gossip about football or celebrities or whatever Tokyo's teenage population was supposed to be interested in. Ryou didn't know and didn't care.

The cold outside air was like a slap in the face after the stifling atmosphere of the disco, where the whole area reeked of cigarettes, various drugs and human sweat. Heart still pounding to a non-existent beat, he swayed over to the bus stop.

The glare of headlights appeared after only a few seconds and he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he boarded the bus. For a couple of seconds he allowed himself to dwell on what would have happened if he'd missed it, and felt an icy wave of sweat break out in beads ono his pale forehead.

Leaning back in the worn, patched seat, he imagined he was still at the disco, dancing like it was the only thing that mattered, and smiled to himself.

"Ryou-kun! You went to the disco as well?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Ryou looked up as Yugi came over from paying the driver and sat next to him. He shuffled over slightly to give his friend a bit more room.

"Yes." Wondering if the reply sounded too stilted, he hastened to add, "it was great."

Yugi beamed. "I thought so too! They played loads of my favourite songs. Like _Dirrty_.You know, by Christina. You like that song?"

"It's not bad. I'm not really into her music."

"What sort of stuff do you prefer?"

"Well…"

They chatted incessantly for the entire trip, moving onto other subjects after a while. Yugi prodded Ryou for information about what he liked, trying to draw the white-haired teenager out of the protective shell he always seemed to draw around himself. He seemed to have some degree of success- after getting over his natural reserve Ryou talked animatedly, his face losing that cautious, closed look. He even smiled a few times; properly, instead of his usual guarded expression.

Eventually Ryou peered out of the window, straining to make out precise details through the murky glass. "I think this is my stop."

"Really? I live near here too! You want me to walk you home?"

Ryou hesitated. "…Okay, if you want to."

Yugi wasn't sure quite what he'd said wrong, but something in his friend's eyes forbid any questions. "Sure I do."

As the bus drew nearer to the stop they got up, holding onto the poles for support. The jerk as the vehicle halted sent a few unprepared passengers lurching forwards, but the two teenagers were ready and walked perfectly steadily to the door. Yugi thanked the bus driver, as was customary, and they both stepped onto the street.

"I think it's starting to rain…"

And indeed it was, the raindrops hitting their heads with an eerie ferocity, as if it genuinely wanted to hurt them. Yugi pulled out a rainbow umbrella and opened it up. It burst into life like an exotic flower, shielding them from the rain's ruthless assault. Heads bent slightly under the wind, which was threatening to whip the umbrella away, the two teenagers made their way carefully down the narrow street. Their feet skidded slightly on the wet pavement, slick with puddles.

"I don't really like rain," Yugi remarked conversationally. "It always makes me feel depressed."

Ryou gave a short, barking laugh, the sound unnaturally harsh. _"Rain_ makes you depressed?"

"Well…yes," Yugi answered uncertainly, slightly hurt. "It's so…well, _gloomy."_

Ryou stared at him, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, then shrugged. "I think I see what you mean. But I never think of it like that. I mean, it brings life and makes plants grow and everything, so it can't be all that bad.

"Mmm. Suddenly Yugi brightened. "What do you think of snow? Kinda pretty, I think."  
His companion raised his eyebrows to himself, falling silent. Abruptly: "that's my house." He turned. "Thank you for coming with me."

"No problem. See you at school tomorrow, yeah?"

"Uh huh."

They both groaned at the thought, while exchanging looks of laughter.

"See you."

Ryou turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open. In front of him, a warm, dry house beckoned. Before going in, he turned and watched Yugi walk away, the usual happy, carefree expression written on every inch of his face. Ryou stood there, with the rain now blowing into his hallway, and stared after him for a long time.

Eventually he sighed and, looking down, realised that the area of carpet around his feet was now sodden wet, a dark blot in an otherwise perfect floor. Pulling off his scuffed, grimy trainers with long-fingered hands – oddly delicate in spite of the bruises and scratches – he placed them neatly by the door, and made his way slowly upstairs.

……………..

"You're late," his yami said flatly.

Ryou gazed studiously at the floor, not meeting his eyes. He was barely five minutes over time. Some people at the disco would only just be starting to think about going home.

"I'm sorry."

"Come over here."

He obeyed the command unquestioningly, standing by the bed next to his other half.

"And look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Bakura watched as his host unwillingly raised his head so their eyes met. His eyes were a warm, deep brown, like a pot of swirling treacle. The spirit thought in annoyance how he wanted to shatter that softness, make the treacle set in glazed splinters.

"I didn't mean to," Ryou said sullenly.

"Anything else to say?" When the silence was long in enough to satisfy him as a 'yes' he continued in seeming casualness, "Good. Because I've got plenty to say. I've been good to you, my little vessel. I've let you indulge in your foolish mortal ways; I've even let you go out for the night. And in return, you can't even keep one little promise?"

"But I didn't meant to be late, honest. I was…just…"

"Yes?" _Let me hear your excuses,_ the sneering expression said. _Go on, yadonushi. Amuse me. You know your excuses will never be good enough. But at least while you talk I won't hurt you._

"I…" Their eyes met again, and for a moment Bakura felt a jolt of something that wasn't quite fear, as if somehow he _knew-_

"I was just talking to…to….Y-Yugi…"

"Ah. So it's like _that,_ is it?" The spirit made his voice slightly harsher than usual, as if by doing so he could somehow erase the flicker of unease he had felt moments before.

"N-no!" Ryou took a deep shaky breath, fighting the panic that was even now clawing its way up his throat, like a cat up a tree. His other could see this, and they both knew it. It also amused him.

"It was just a normal conversation…we just talked about m-music, and things…" He knew before the words stumbled out that it wouldn't be any good. But a part of him kept babbling, to delay the moment in which it would happen.

"And we just talked about our f-favourite songs, and the r-rain, and-"

"You're _babbling,_ my little host," Bakura cut in smoothly, stopping the flow of desperate nonsense as effectively as if he'd just produced a shotgun.

"You know I don't like it when you babble."

"I wasn't doing anything _wrong!"_ Ryou cried. His voice was rising rapidly in shrillness, betraying his terror.

"Don't talk like that, host. I have a headache. That means you have to make me feel better. Now, how are you going to do that?"

Ryou shook his head soundlessly. Bakura could smell his fear. The scent was intoxicating.

"How unimaginative. It seems I'll have to think of something instead. Let me think." He stood there for a few moments, lips pursed in mock-thought.

"Ah. I have an idea." He indicated the bed. "Sit down."

"I-It's okay, I'll stand…" Ryou wanted to move but his legs were frozen to the spot like useless lumps of jelly, wobbly and quivering.

**__**

"I said sit down!"

Trembling, the teenager did as he was told.

"Good." Bakura's voice was cool, controlled again. He walked over to the table, where several knives of various lengths and sharpness lay. His hand hovered over them for a few seconds, then he selected one and held it up for his light to see.

"How about this one? Its lovely and sharp." To demonstrate, the spirit ran a finger down the blade, licking up the resulting liquid with a pointed tongue. "What do you think of my knife, little host of mine?"

This question seemed to require an answer of some kind. Ryou stammered out, "it's…fine…"

"I'm glad you like it. Your opinions are very important to me." Bakura sat down on the bed next to his host. Before he could control himself, Ryou let out a tiny shudder at how close they were. His yami noticed, and his eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

"Do you want to play with my knife?" The spirit held the blade teasingly an inch from his light's throat. He moved it softly to and for, just stroking the delicate skin. "Do you?" The lade continued its deadly caress.

__

"No," Ryou replied in strangled tones.

"Aww, that's a pity. Because my knife wants to play with you."

Like greased lightning the blade was moved upwards and dragged lightly down his face. Ryou's cry was lost as he was shoved roughly against the bed.

"For every sound you make, I'll do another." The knife was raised again, creating a parallel cut less than a finger's breadth from the previous one. It had hurt enough on fresh skin; near already wounded flesh the pain was agony.

Instinct demanded that he wipe away the blood trickling from his face. Making a slight choking sound in an effort not to cry out, Ryou tried to struggle up, but his yami pinned him effortlessly beneath him, lying on top of him.

"What, trying to get away? You like this. I know you do." Bakura's elbow was pushing his light's shoulder downwards as he used his right hand to make two identical cuts on the other side. Just in case Ryou didn't know exactly where each mark was being made, the spirit kept up a running commentary.

"Just below the eye…that suppose to be quite a sensitive area in mortals. Shall we try it and see?"

The blood was now running freely down Ryou's face in two miniature rivers, flowing steadily. It mingled with his tears to form a runny, marbled liquid that ran into the corners of his mouth. His lips tightened, both to hold back the scream and in an attempt not to swallow the blood.

"Come now, my host, you're missing the best part." Bakura's eyes glowed with a fiendish intensity. He ran a delicate finger up his host's face, collecting some of the blood, and this time Ryou couldn't hold back the scream than bubbled up from within.

"It's a pity you did that," his yami murmured while licking the blood from his finger. "Because, unlike you, I keep my promises. So host, I'm going to have to do _this."_ Slowly he moved the blade between Ryou's eyes, very precisely. Like the others, the cut wasn't deep, but it didn't have to be deep to be effective.

Unable to see clearly from the blood running down the bridge of his nose and falling off the sides into his eyes, Ryou let out a tiny whimper. Not just for the pain, which in itself was blinding in its agony, but out of fear for the unknown.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes. A present." Bakura forced his light's mouth open and carefully dangled a finger over the chasm, letting a few choice drops drip in.

At the sensation of his own blood on his tongue Ryou's whole body convulsed, jerking under his other half in a tortured spasm. His yami released him, and Ryou retched over the side of the bed, making pitiful choking sounds.

After the worst of it was out he looked up, as if expecting to be told his yami was finished for the night, but Bakura immediately grabbed him and forced him back down again. This time Ryou fought him, pushing him away with every inch of strength he possessed. His yami simply sat on top of him, letting Ryou hammer away at him. Ryou didn't have the strength to much damage, but his sudden indignation was a good substitute. Not that this unduly worried the spirit – physical pain had long ceased to bother him.

As Ryou showed the first signs of slowing, his anger giving way to unfightable exhaustion, Bakura turned and, almost disdainfully, pushed him back down. With no strength left to resist, Ryou sank into the bed, arms wrapped over his face in a last attempt at protection. His yami simply pulled his arms apart, his grip steely and somehow emotionless.

Then the agony began again, liquid fire coursing through his bones as the knife moved over his face.

"Sixteen cuts," his yami pronounced in an almost dreamy voice. "One for every year of your worthless life."

Ryou let out a weak moan, which was transformed into a cry of pain as the blade continued its dance.

"That was only the seventh one. There's still plenty to go, don't worry…"

Suddenly he was pulled up, grabbed by the collar of his shirt like a dog and flung against the pillows.

"Pay attention now. This is very important."

Ryou gazed at him through eyes that were dull and clouded.

"This-" Bakura moved the metal softly over Ryou's neck – "is the jugular vein. Quite important for you mortals. I cut this and you bleed to death _oh_ so slowly."

"No," Ryou mumbled as the blood rose in his throat. "Please don't…"

"This, on the other hand," his yami continued, not taking the slightest bit of notice of him, "is another not half as important little vein which I am going to open up. After all-" his voice lowered to am almost conspirator-like whisper- "the neck is the best bit. Don't you think so too?"

A shake of the head, sending red droplets flying everywhere.

"I knew you'd agree…"

A twirl of the knife…

__

"Ya-do-nu-shi."

With every syllable uttered, the knife slashed. And this time Ryou _did_ manage another scream, a fully-fledged one that careered insanely around their heads for what seemed like an eternity. After this, he passed out.


	2. Discovered

Chapter Two: Discovered

When Ryou next opened his eyes and gazed upon the world, it was with the certainty that several hours had gone by, for his yami was slumped on the sofa watching T.V. He was flicking through channels aimlessly, with no obvious interest.

"What's the time?" Ryou asked haltingly. It hurt to talk.

"Half past four in the morning." The reply was said in a vague sort of way, as if time, infinite though it was, still occurred only on the physical plane, and therefore didn't really matter. "And I wouldn't do that if I were you," he continued in a more matter-of-fact tone, as Ryou tentatively put up a hand to touch his face and flinched, his battered skin screaming at the contact.

Bakura got up from the sofa and surveyed his light's face. There was evident satisfaction in his expression. "You'd better get in there and clean yourself up." He pointed to the small bathroom adjacent to their bedroom.

Numbly, his lighter half nodded and made his way in the indicated direction, his whole body swaying as if drunk. He fumbled for the light switch several times before finding it. Automatically he raised his eyes to the mirror, and-

_"No!"_

For a fraction of a second Ryou stared in horrified fascination at the mask of blood before him, taking in the long jagged slashes that ran down his face and the clotted, congealed substance dried down his neck. Then the trance broke and he stumble out of the mirror's gaze, clutching his face as if he could somehow tear it off to reveal how he had looked hours before.

"Oh God, please no…"

He staggered blindly to the bed, his legs giving way beneath him. Ryou hid his disfigured face in his hands as his body was wracked with silent sobs. Pressing on the cuts made red circles explode in his vision, but he didn't care about the pain anymore.

"Are looks really _that_ important to you?"

Ryou peeked at his other through the gaps between his fingers, and at the bored expression he felt something snap inside.

"You! You were the one who did this to me, you…you…"

The lack of interest intensified his rage even further, burning away the fear. He seized the pale shoulders and shook them. "Stop _looking_ at me like that, goddammit!"

"Yadonushi, you're acting like a child." There was no emotion in the spirit's voice.

_"Fuck that!"_ Ryou slapped him across the face, hating him. Hating him because he looked so utterly bored, hating him because of what he had done. And most of all, hating him because _he_ still looked normal, _he_ didn't look like some sort of ugly _freak-_

"Are you finished yet?"

_"Shut up!" _Ryou was panting hard, his anger leaving a bitter metallic aftertaste in his mouth. "Stop _dismissing_ me! You could at least pretend to take me seriously for once, instead of looking so goddamn _bored!"_

"Well, this isn't exactly the most constructive use of my time." Bakura fingered one of the Ring's tines, and Ryou thought how he wanted to grab the cord and throttle him with it.

"Fuck you." The words were delivered in an uncharacteristic hiss.

"You've said that already. When are you going to stop screaming, and just generally deluding yourself? Are you trying to project your self-denial onto me?"

"No shit." Ryou's voice was low and hoarse.

"Don't swear, host. You're too pretty to swear."

"Well thanks to you, no one's going to be saying _that_ again to me for a while."

"Self-pity this time. How amusing."

"Aren't you the one who's in denial? You've finally gone too far this time. This isn't the sort of thing I can cover up. What do you think mou hitori no Yugi will say when he sees me?"

"Nothing whatsoever. Because he isn't going to find out." Then, as Ryou opened his mouth, he continued, "host, how were you planning to tell him? Planning to just walk into school like that, are you?"

Silence. He could tell this attack had scored.

Ryou's face had turned papery-white, the look of disbelief still in his eyes. "I…no…" He could almost hear them whispering, debating, _gossiping_ amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands, and _staring_ at him… "Fine, I'll…phone him up."

"No you won't," his yami stated calmly.

"No," Ryou whispered. "I won't." He swallowed hard. "I'll just take a few days off school. I haven't been off sick in months. I'll just not come to school until they heal…" His voice grew desperate. "They'll be gone within a few days…or a week…won't they?"

"A few months would be more accurate."

"No," Ryou repeated. He was struggling to steady his voice. "You…you're lying."

Bakura laughed quietly. "Not had much experience with scars, I see." He watched in satisfaction as his light walked back into the bathroom, and could tell from the way his thin shoulders were shaking that he was close to tears.

Ryou took a deep breath and switched the light back on. The harsh, unfiltered brightness threw every little detail into retrospect, highlighting the blood filled hollows around his throat and cheekbones. Trying to calm his racing breathing, he dampened a flannel with warm water then wrung it out, twisting the material as if he were somehow wringing out the fragments of his old life, his old appearance. He mopped cautiously at his face. The pain made him wince, and he kept his eyes averted from the mirror whenever possible. Soon some of the scabs peeled away, protective crusts torn off to reveal livid, flaming skin underneath. Accidentally catching another glance of himself in the mirror, he was forcibly reminded of a sunburnt zebra, face alternatively decked out in white and bloody stripes. The image seemed too humorous for the occasion, but he couldn't get it out of his head. In any case, it was better than the other words which popped in: _Freak. Disfigured. Scarred for life._

Trembling now, he wrung out the used flannel, forcing himself to watch the pink water trickle reluctantly down the sink. Then he crept out of the bathroom, while avoiding meeting his yami's eyes.

"So, how _were_ you planning to get to school?" came that cool, hated voice.

"I don't know." Ryou's tone was quieter now, subdued by the fresh images in the mirror, and the slow, unwelcome realisation that this was now_ him._

His yami laughed. "It's a good thing that I do then. Now go to bed, yadonushi. I'll tell you in the morning."

…………..

The next day Ryou arose with care. He'd had to sleep on his back during the night, due to the throbbing in his face and neck. Donning his school uniform with even less enthusiasm than usual, he said uncertainly, "Now what?"

Bakura, who had actually been half-dozing in his soul room, jolted awake. ((What? Oh.)) He gave a yawn. ((Go over to the mirror.))

Meekly Ryou obeyed. He was careful to avoid looking up at his reflection.

His yami took control, and Ryou watched as his features changed; his hair flaring outwards into those infamous devil horns and his eyes narrowing. More importantly, the scars vanished, melting away as if they had never been there.

(That's not good enough. You don't look enough like me.)

((Its not your place to tell me what's good enough and what isn't,)) Bakura shot back.

Painstakingly, he smoothed his hair down as if his hands were coated with an invisible gel, while making sure his eyes were suitably wide. The Ring was tucked unnoticeably under his shirt. ((There. I will go into school, and everyone will think I am you. Happy?))

Silence. Ryou knew his yami was offering him a choice, of sorts: his dignity, in return for obedience.

((I asked if you were happy, _ya-do-nu-shi._ Unless you would prefer everyone saw you like _this?))_

For a moment the disguise slipped away, and Ryou saw his face in the mirror. The deep slashes down his neck looked even worse in the morning light.

(Y-yes. I'm happy.)

……………

The day crawled painfully by, with Ryou sitting in his dungeon of a soul room and watching as his yami fooled everyone with depressing little trouble: Yugi, Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu. It was all too obvious they suspected nothing.

A soul room is a good place to think, and so Ryou reflected on his actions, and whether they'd been the right thing to do. Several times, especially as he watched his yami plot more ways of stealing the Puzzle and then carry them out, the answer seemed to be 'no.' He was betraying Yugi, watching helplessly as his other half spied on him the entire day, noting when he took his Item off (rarely) and when he was on his own (frequently). He did, however, make no attempts to take control, or even distract his yami, for if this was done he would inevitably be revealed, and people would _know._ Then the stares would come, the whispers, the gossip, perhaps even a summon to the headmaster's office, and then the answer to his tortuous, unanswerable question was always _yes._

After school had finished and Bakura had walked home, Ryou was finally allowed back in control. Already he was certain that he wouldn't be able to stand this again tomorrow. It had been hard enough for one day, but the prospect of living in his soul room, a virtual prisoner in his own body, for months and months into the far distant future, was unbelievable. Worse than that, it was inconceivable. He simply _couldn't_ envision carrying it on. But the alternative was so much worse.

Bakura, on the other hand, was almost content. He had carried out four different plans to steal the Millennium Puzzle today, and even though they had all failed the last one had been so close he was certain he would have it by the end of the week. He had succeeded in undoing the chain that the Puzzle hung on, and it had dropped unnoticed onto the floor behind Yugi. But Honda, being the exasperating bastard that he was, had very infuriating pointed out that "Yugi-kun" had dropped something, and hadn't he better pick it up? Bakura had had to choke back a growl of frustration as Yugi picked the Puzzle back up, a look of utmost surprise on his chubby face. If it had just been the three of them he would have killed Honda. But Jounouchi had been with them, and Kaiba, and Ra-knows-how-many teachers. It hadn't been the right time. But no matter. The right time would come, eventually, and he would seize it at once.

…………

And thus the week passed. The disco had been on Saturday night, and it was now five days later when Ryou sat listlessly on the sofa, looking up briefly when his other half came in from the kitchen. The slashes on his face and neck were beginning to heal, albeit slowly, leaving behind angry pink scars that would eventually pale and fade to silver. Despite the fact that Ryou himself never did anything at school now, his yami still made him come. Ryou suspected this was so that he could witness his other's attempts to steal the Millennium Puzzle, and so be steeped in feelings of guilt and despair.

In a way this had happened, but not quite how one might expect. At the beginning there had been the predicted feelings of guilt, yes. But Ryou's attitude seemed to be one of "fuck it, I have nothing left to lose, therefore I'll be the most rebellious little host I can, just to annoy you."

Actually, Bakura found this more irritating than anything else. It was as if his vessel didn't respect him. As if he didn't even _care._ He didn't even acknowledge when he came into a room anymore, for Ra's sake. And when Bakura ordered him to do something, there would be a sullen, almost sulky silence before he complied.

The spirit was beginning to wonder if a less extreme repeat of Friday's activities was needed, to re-install the necessary amount of respect and fear into his landlord. Though at the moment his yadonushi's attitude problems weren't his chief concern. He _really_ wanted to steal that Puzzle before the weekend, which left only tomorrow. He had come tantalisingly close today; tomorrow he was bound to succeed.


	3. Revealed

A/N: After reading WalkingintoWallsPerson's review, (by the way, thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed!) I feel I must clear one thing up: Bakura DID NOT do all this to Ryou JUST SO HE COULD GET THE MILLENNIUM PUZZLE. annoyed look There was another reason instead, which you'll all find out next chapter.

Chapter Three: Revealed.

Friday came, bringing with it a sense of relief, calm and many utterings under the breath of T. G. I. F (Thank God it's Friday). With the exception of one person.

Yami was agitated. Something had been gnawing at his mind since Monday, every time he looked at Ryou. If questioned, he couldn't explain what had been making him so anxious; perhaps it was the was the teenager would sometimes look at the Puzzle, or maybe the way he held himself, the way he looked so much more confident of himself than usual. Little things, virtually meaningless on their own. But putting them together led him to the same conclusion, over and over again: the white-haired figure who sat at the desk was _not_ Ryou.

He had voiced his suspicions to his other half only to find himself being dismissed, or being answered with things like – "aibou, why would the other Ryou want to be in control during school?" and "so what if it is him? He's got a right to come out, just like you have."

The problem was that he couldn't explain _how_ he knew it wasn't Ryou, or _what_ exactly the Tomb Robber might be up to. So for the time being he had to content himself with watching the white-haired student through Yugi's eyes as often as he could, noting everything that seemed even slightly out of the ordinary. It was a little bit like listening to a song played in the wrong key – you knew _something_ was wrong, but it wasn't always clear what.

……….

Honda looked at his watch and cursed in annoyance. "Nearly time for lessons, and I haven't got my books. Ryou-kun, will you come down to the lockers with me?"

"Sure."

In his soul room, Yami watched through narrowed eyes as the two teenagers walked off. _Dammit Tomb Robber, what are you up to?_

Yugi heard this thought and sighed. (Aibou, why do you have to be so suspicious of everyone? Honda-kun's not going to get sent to the Shadow Realm or anything.)

((He might,)) Yami muttered darkly.

(What would that achieve?)

((His motives aren't always obvious.))

(Now you're just being silly. See? They're back already. And Honda-kun's still in one piece.)

((At the moment.)) Yami glared mentally at Bakura, as if by doing so he could somehow read his thoughts. ((Stupid bastard. Thinks you're so stupid just because he's taller than you and –_Oh my Ra, that's it!))_

(Ow! Stop shouting!)

((Sorry. But that's it! Don't you see?))

(See what?)

((Look at them.))

Yugi obediently turned his head over in Honda and Bakura's direction. (I don't see anything unusual.)

Yami might have lost his temper then, but years of living in Yugi's head had taught him that you needed to be patient with him, and he'd get there in the end.

((Honda and…_Ryou_ are practically the same height. That's not normal. Ryou's at least two inches shorter than Honda. But when the Tomb Robber takes over, he becomes taller. _Now _do you believe me?))

What he expected was a gasp of understanding, followed by thousands of apologies. What he _didn't_ expect was a gentle laugh.

(Aibou, you're so paranoid its funny. Ryou-kun probably had a growth spurt or something.)

((Growing two inches in a week?)) Yami said disbelievingly.

(Its not unheard of.)

Yami was about to reply when the bell signalling the start of lessons rang. There were universal groans from the group.

"I _hate_ Maths," Ryou muttered.

"Who doesn't?" Jounouchi replied lightly. "Hey Yuug, can I sit next to you in the lesson?"

"Sure."

The group dispersed, with everyone drifting off to their relevant classes, including Yugi. With the vaguely angry feeling that he'd just missed something, Yami fell silent. All at once something clicked, at he let out a yell of triumph.

__

((Yes!))

(What now?)

((What did Ryou say, just a moment ago?))

(He said he hated Maths. Which was perfectly true. Yami, are you going to try and find something wrong with _that_ now?)

((I don't need to try; I've already found it. Aibou, say that sentence again. About the maths.))

A sigh. (I hate Maths.)

((No, that's wrong. You didn't say it how he said it.))

(Do you want me to say it out loud?)

((No, in your head will do. Fine, I'll say it. I hate Maths.))

(I still don't under-)

((Think, aibou. What was the difference between the way I said it and the way you said it?))

Silence, while Yugi thought. Then a gasp. (Kami-sama! He used 'ore'! Ryou-kun never uses that!)

((Exactly. Its always 'boku,' isn't it? _Now _do you believe me?))

(Yes. Definitely.)

In his soul room, Yami was tempted to roll his eyes in an 'at last' gesture, but it wouldn't have been appropriate for a Pharaoh.

(So what do you want to do now?) Yugi started heading towards the Maths classroom as he spoke.

((After school, I want to go round to Ryou's house. Maybe then we'll get some answers.))

………..

"Yami…?"

"For the third time aibou, yes I am sure." And Yami rang the doorbell.

Bakura answered it. He looked slightly taken-aback to see them, but mastered his surprise almost at once. He did, however, attempt to close the door in Yami's face. The Pharaoh stuck out a foot and stopped him.

"Enough games, Tomb Robber. Where's Ryou?"

Bakura arched an eyebrow. "That's it? Just 'where's Ryou?' No 'I know you're trying to steal my Puzzle and you won't even be fit for the Shadow Realm once I've finished duelling you?'"

"That comes later," Yami answered grimly.

"Thought as much," the Ring-spirit murmured.

__

"What?"

"Nothing important."

"Fine, whatever. Where is he?"

"Who?" Bakura had decided on the spur of the moment to be as aggravating as possible. It was always fun to wind up the Pharaoh.

"Ryou, you idiot."

"Oh, _him. _Upstairs."

"I want to talk to him."

"Fine with me." Bakura smiled at the look on the Pharaoh's face. Raising his voice, he yelled, _"Ya-do-nu-shi!"_

Yami scowled at the demeaning word, saying nothing but silently filing it away in his mind under the 'incriminating evidence against the Tomb Robber' section.

After a few moments there came a reply, sounding unusually cold. "What?"

"The Pharaoh's here. He wants to talk to you."

"Y-yami no Yugi? Here? **N-no!" **There was the unmistakable sound of a door slamming. Ryou's voice held an undercurrent of fear that made Yami's eyes widen. "_Make him go away!"_

Bakura turned to the other spirit, his arms folded and with a smug, obviously satisfied expression on his pointed features. "Doesn't seem like he wants to talk to you, does it?"

"You…did something…" Without finishing his sentence, Yami dashed upstairs in the direction of Ryou's bedroom. Bakura and Yugi were left looking at each other, the latter with a very nervous expression on his face. Then Bakura smirked, accompanying the expression with a glow from the Ring. Yugi let out a squeak of fear and ran after his yami.

……….

"Ryou? Are you there?"

"G-go away!"

"Please, let me in. I need to talk to you."

"Well I d-don't want to talk to you! Leave me alone!"

"Pharaoh, are you harassing my host?" Bakura asked smoothly. "I wouldn't want you to upset him. He can be highly-strung."

"Silence, _commoner,_" Yami snarled. He softened his voice. "Ryou, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yami, p-please make him go away! I don't want him near me!"

The satisfied smile on Bakura's face grew wider. "Of course, my little vessel." Then turning to Yami: "You heard him, Pharaoh. He doesn't want you near him." He laughed out loud at the baffled hurt on the Puzzle-spirit's face.

Yami looked down, and saw there was no lock on the door. It was only Ryou leaning on the other side that made sure it stayed shut. He pushed, and felt the door open a little. Ryou gave a shriek and ran off.

Yami flung the door open. He was just in time to see a skinny figure hurtle towards the bathroom, the flash of white hair like a rabbit's scut, giving warning to all who saw it. Then Ryou slammed the bathroom door shut, and this time it was followed by the distinctive click of a lock.

"Damn," the spirit mumbled to himself. ((Aibou, can you see if you can persuade him to come out? I'll try and make the Tomb Robber leave. Maybe them we'll get more sense out of Ryou.))

(Okay.)

Yugi crossed over to the bathroom door. Yami turned his attention to Bakura.

"Would you please be _kind enough_ to leave? The only reason Ryou won't come out is because you're here."

"Allow me to disagree with you, _my King,"_ the Ring-spirit answered coolly. "Perhaps it is _your_ presence that is distressing him."

"What the-are you suggesting Ryou is afraid of me?"

A disinterested shrug. "He didn't exactly sound like he was happy to see you, did he?"

Yami changed tack. "Why have you been in control of Ryou's body for all of this week?"

Another infuriating shrug. "Why not?"

Yami had had enough. "Just get out."

"Its my house, not yours-" Bakura stopped in mid-speech as something occurred to him. His host wouldn't come out, as he'd never let Yugi or Yami see what he looked like. Therefore there wasn't much point in staying up here. "…Okay then." He turned and walked downstairs. Unable to believe what had just happened, Yami went after him.

His other half, meanwhile, was trying unsuccessfully to reason with Ryou, who was showing no signs of leaving his refuse.

__

"Onegai, Ryou-kun. Why don't you want to come out?"

"Just go away."

"What happened? Did he do something to you?

__

"No!" The reply was too quick, too shrill, to be plausible.

"He did, didn't he?" Yugi coaxed. "Ryou-kun, we can look after you. He won't do anything to you while mou hitori no boku is here."

Obstinate silence.

"He's not even here," the Puzzle-holder continued quietly. "He's downstairs with the other me."

"He…he is?"

Sensing that perhaps he was beginning to get through to him, Yugi continued, "Yes. So you don't need to worry about him."

More silence.

"Ryou-kun, _what did he do to you?"_

Behind the door, Ryou flinched at his voice. "I…"

"Please. We can help you."  
A disbelieving sound. "No one can help me. And who would want to, anyway?"

Yugi said softly, "I would."

A pause. Then there was an ominous screech of rust as the bolt was drawn back, and Ryou stepped out. Without a word, he walked over to the bed and sat down, dark haunted eyes staring almost accusingly out of his scarred face.

Yugi tried to say something, _anything, _but the words seemed to lodge in his throat like a fishbone. "He…he did that? To you…?"

__

"No." Ryou's voice was bitterly sarcastic. "I did it to myself."

The silence that followed seemed ridiculously quiet, and Yugi had the sudden urge to laugh, the sort of awful, hysterical sound you make when something horrible happens and you don't quite believe it.

"My God," he whispered at last. They weren't the most appropriate words he could have said, but it was all he could find. "My God…"

When the laugh came, it was from Ryou. "I suppose you could say that." He gave that raw, hysterical laugh again. "Stare if you want. I don't care anymore." Behind the fierce casualness he sounded close to tears.

Not saying anything, Yugi sat down next to him and hugged him tightly, feeling after a moment his rigid stance break down into something softer.

"When?" he murmured.

"Just after the d-disco." It seemed weeks and weeks ago. Ryou was sobbing now, clinging desperately to him as if Yugi was going to hand him over to his yami. And Yugi was holding onto him as well, clutching him tightly.

There was the sound of footsteps and Yami appeared in the doorway. "Aibou, did you manage to get Ryou to come out?"

In reply, both lighter halves looked up. And at the sight of Ryou, all the blood drained from Yami's face.

………….

__

"Tomb Robber, get up here **now!"**

Downstairs, Bakura yawned, stretching luxuriously like a sleeping cat. It sounded as if his host had revealed himself after all. How tiresome of him. Oh well, at least this would make his day more interesting.

He headed silently up to the bedroom, taking his time. "You require my presence, O Pharaoh?"

Yami did not waste words. "You. Did that. Explain."

Bakura glanced carelessly at his lighter half, then looked enquiringly at the Puzzle-spirit. "What exactly do you mean? As far as I know, the word 'that' could be applied to a great many things."

The blood rushed back into Yami's face so quickly it was frightening. "You sick bastard. I know you did that to Ryou. And I want to know why." His voice lashed out like a whip. _"Now!"_

For a moment he thought he saw the other spirit flinch. Then that cool, self-assured smile was back on his face. Bakura could tell from the way Yami's voice had been shaking that he was on the verge of losing his self-control. One spark would make the bomb explode. And he had every intention of being that spark.

"Oh, _that. _Why didn't you say so?" The smile was so smooth it could have been lacquered. "Prove it."

"With pleasure," Yami shot back. He knew he was being goaded but didn't care. "I'm sure Ryou was conscious for some of it, at least. And who else could have done it? Few people have the same sick pleasure in making others suffer as you do."

Bakura was slouched in the doorway, hands in pockets. He gave a mock-bow. "I'm flattered."

"Ryou, he did that to you, didn't he?" Yami said quietly.

Ryou opened his mouth-

((Yadonushi, say anything and I'll kill you.))

and closed it again. He looked up, but that was a mistake. His yami looked amused at the happenings, but as their gazes met a red light came into his eyes.

((You know I will.))

Yes, he knew all right.

"Ryou?"

The teenager looked at the ground.

"See? I didn't do it." Bakura sauntered up to his host and sat next to him. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

He ran a pale finger almost caressingly down Ryou's face, tracing one of the scars. Ryou shivered but didn't pull away. He couldn't, not with his yami gripping his mind so hard it felt as if it would burst, like someone squeezing an orange.

"Leave him alone!" Yugi shrilled. He gave the spirit a glare that could hardly have made a flower wilt, let alone concern someone like Bakura.

The spirit in question winked at Yami, as if they somehow shared a secret. "Trained him well, I see. He acts so much like you its almost funny." He gave Ryou's mind one last twist, just enough to produce a noise, and then let go. His light almost moved away from him, but thought better of it.

"Fuck off," Yami replied tersely. It was the first time he had ever sworn in front of Yugi before.

Bakura made a show of tutting. "Tsk. I really don't think a great Pharaoh such as yourself should use such _vulgar_ language. It doesn't suit you. Now, if you don't mind, _my King, _I think I'll go back into my Ring and sleep for a day or two." He vanished.

Yami made a strangled noise as the Ring appeared around Ryou's neck. Its bearer simply looked down at it and gave a resigned shrug.


	4. Dismissed

A/N: Sorry that updates have taken a while again (was it really that long? Only two weeks) but if you read my bio you'll have known about my Art and DT GCSE coursework, which is taking up a hell of a lot of my time. If you haven't read my bio then please do – I update it slightly more frequently than my fics. (About once a week).

In answer to LariaKaiba's question, 'yadonushi' means host or landlord. It is used in the original (Japanese) version of Yu-gi-oh, and in most Ryou and Bakura fanfics. If anyone else has any queries about anything in my fics then please mention it in a review, and I promise I'll answer it.

Warnings: Bad language, yaoi

Chapter Four: Dismissed.

Shafts of dappled brilliance filtered freely through the window, as the moon's silver light played teasingly on the faces of two sleeping teenagers. It shone full on to Yugi like a spotlight, but he was a sound sleeper and didn't wake. Ryou's face was partially obscured by shadows, and the long silver scars that ran down his neck could almost be mistaken for moonlight reflecting off his skin. His sleep was deep but uneasy; once or twice he would stir uncertainly and seem about to sit up, but then would emit a tired sort of sigh and settle back down, sinking deeper into the blankets tucked watchfully around his body.

Oblivious to the sleeping habits of the two vessels, downstairs in the kitchen Yami was reclining in a chair; leaning so far back it seemed liable to topple over at any second, and with his feet perched half-forgotten on the table. The position was informal, and totally inappropriate for a Pharaoh, but he was on his own so it didn't matter. The way his fingers moved absently over the inverted pyramid hanging from around his neck, and that his eyes were half shut indicated relaxation, or at least a certain stillness; but his mind was awake, buzzing like an angry bee.

What was he going to do with Ryou? The teenager was reasonably safe at the moment, upstairs with Yugi to look after him and no one else around, but it wouldn't last long. At most, until Monday. But the Tomb Robber was bound to take over at some point, and then what to do? They couldn't _stop_ him, which was what irked Yami – that there didn't seem to be a way to prevent Ryou getting hurt further. Although Ra knows he had been hurt enough already.

And at this point his mind shifted to the other problem at hand. How were they going to explain the scars? Ryou would never agree to go out in public looking like how he was now, but he had to go to school at some point, and Yami knew the Tomb Robber wasn't always going to be willing to maintain the illusion of the previous week. In fact, he would probably refuse altogether, and watch in sardonic amusement as they strived to find an answer to the impossible question.

It would be a few weeks at least before they healed, Yami was sure of that. He'd been upstairs a few times to check on Ryou and Yugi, and had noted that the scars on Ryou's face and neck weren't as deep as he'd thought in the beginning. But although they had already started to turn silver, a sure sign that slowly they were beginning to heal, they would still attract more than enough attention. And _scars_ especially, much more so than cuts. For how could Ryou walk into school with scars on his face that were obviously at least a week old, when there had been no sign of them the previous week?

His fingers continued roving aimlessly over the Puzzle, feeling every contour and crack. It helped to have something so random to do, something that didn't require much conscious thought.

If only Jounouchi were here. Or Honda, maybe, although he didn't know him so well. Jounouchi always seemed to produce good ideas to any situation. And he was certainly more useful than Anzu. Whatever they chose, she would support it whole-heartedly but could never come up with anything on her own. Yami grimaced at the thought of telling sentimental, trusting Anzu that Ryou got beaten up by the spirit living inside the Millennium Ring.

Dammit, he really wanted Jounouchi here. If it hadn't been eleven o'clock at night he would have phoned him up; maybe to ask his advice or maybe just so he could take his mind off everything for a while.

As if his wish had been heard and granted, a blonde-haired figure suddenly appeared behind the frosted glass door. Yami smiled. He wasn't in the mood to question how Jounouchi had somehow miraculously appeared; all that mattered was that he was here.

The blonde teenager pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door, accompanying it with a well-placed shove. And such was Yami's expectation that for a moment he actually _saw_ Jounouchi, standing in the doorway and grinning his familiar schoolboy, don't-carish grin. Then the figure in his imagination blurred, to be replaced by a far more real and unwelcome one: Malik Ishtar.

Yami jolted awake instantly. He wasn't sure if he'd actually been _asleep,_ but he supposed at least some part of his mind must have dozed off if he'd actually mistaken Jounouchi and Malik. Gods, Jounouchi would kill him if he found out. Yami made a mental note never to tell him.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" the Egyptian inquired acidly.

"I might ask the same of you," Yami replied, his voice equally biting.

"I don't recall it being any of your business."

"Believe me, I couldn't care less why you are here. Only if it's to see the Tomb Robber then you are wasting your time."

Malik tensed. "Why?"

"He went back into the Millennium Ring earlier to sleep, and made it clear he wouldn't be coming out for a while."

The Egyptian visibly relaxed. "I see." He paused. "But Ryou is still here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Pharaoh, it is in your interest not to be difficult," Malik answered smoothly. "If you insist on continuing to act in such a foolish manner then I will be forced to use less…_pleasant_ ways to acquire the information I want." For a moment his hand strayed towards his pocket. "Now tell me - is Ryou here?"

Yami relented. "Yes, he is." _And if you lay one hand on him, you fucking bastard…_

"Good." Malik turned and began to walk up the stairs.

Yami followed him. "And where do you think you are going?"

"To see Ryou, obviously."

"What makes you think he would want to see _you?"_

Malik gave a strange smile. "Oh, he'll want to, Pharaoh, don't worry."

……………..

"Over there. He's asleep."

Malik made a move towards him, but Yami grabbed his wrist. "I think there's something you should know first. Unless the Tomb Robber has already told you."

"What? And kindly refrain from touching me."

Yami rolled his eyes skyward, but released him.

"Thank you. And if this is anything regarding various beatings then I already know."

"I'm sure you do. In fact, I bet you probably stood there and watched some of them happen. And laughed."

A peculiar expression crossed Malik's face. "No, actually, I didn't." And he strode over to the bed before Yami could say another word.

"Ryou?" He reached out. Ryou stirred and turned over, and the Egyptian caught sight of his face for the first time. He uttered an Arabic exclamation and stepped back, pupils dilated in shock. "No…oh Ra, please no…" He looked back at Yami. "He…he did this?" He didn't seem to realise he was still talking in Arabic. The Pharaoh shrugged inwardly at this and answered in the same language.

"Na'am."

Malik let out something that was almost a whimper. He bent over the white-haired teenager again, and whispered, "Ryou? Wake up."

Muddy eyes opened. "…Malik-sama?" Ryou sat up and was hugged tightly. For a moment he looked confused, almost disbelieving, then he smiled. "Missed you…"

"Me too." Malik was holding him as tightly as possible.

Suddenly Ryou let out a muffled scream and pushed him away, pulling a pillow desperately in front of his face. "No! I…I don't want you to see me like this."

"You know I don't mind." Malik gently pulled the obstacle away, and whispered in a voice so quiet none but Ryou could hear him, "I don't care what he does to you. You'll always be beautiful."

Ryou stared, then wrapped his arms around the Egyptian and the two of them clung to each other almost desperately.

Yami, meanwhile, was in an advanced state of shock. "You…two…are _together?"_

"You have a problem with it?" Malik was still holding Ryou as if someone would take him away.

"Well no…I just…" Feeling dazed, the spirit was struggling to put words together, although it didn't matter as neither were really listening. So instead he sat by Yugi, feeling oddly protective of him.

__

Dear Ra, what is happening to the world?

(I don't know. What is happening?) Yugi mumbled sleepily. He opened his eyes. (…Oh.) A pause. (Aibou…?)

Yami rocked him silently; glad that at least in this confusing world there was one thing that wasn't going to change.

Malik was stroking Ryou's hair, murmuring soothing sounds.

"…So if you love him so much, why let the Tomb Robber do all those things to him?" Yami knew the question was hard, even callous, but he didn't care.

Malik's tone took on a cooler note. "I'm Bakura's friend too. I interest him, which is why he likes me. And when I'm around he doesn't hurt Ryou."

"Then why aren't you around more often?"

"I have other…obligations. I've been in Egypt for the past three months, carrying out my duties for those fucking Tomb Keepers."

Yami made a neutral noise.

(Aibou, what's happening? I don't understand.)

((It seems that Ryou and Malik are together.))

(They are? Then I wasn't hallucinating?)

((Not unless I was as well.))

"I can hardly believe the Tomb Robber doesn't know about this," Yami said slowly. "Hasn't he gone through Ryou's mind and realised the truth?"

"No," Malik answered calmly. "Because he doesn't suspect anything. And if he doesn't suspect anything then he doesn't try and find out."

"Fair enough."

Malik went back to stroking Ryou, who was half-asleep in his lap.

Yami looked enquiringly at his lighter half. ((So what do we do now? Leave them to it?))

(But Bakura-san's still hurting Ryou-kun. And Malik-san won't always be around to stop him doing it. You heard him. He has other priorities.)

((Mmm. But surely if he loved Ryou that much then he wouldn't go back to Egypt knowing Ryou was being hurt every night.))

(I suppose. But love is weird.)

((Yes. Love is weird.))

The spirit looked over at Ryou and Malik. The former had sat up and they were talking quietly. As he watched, Malik leaned over and kissed him. Ryou responded, eyes closed.

((Very weird.))

Malik didn't even mind Ryou's scars, which was sweet of him. Yami wondered if he intended doing anything about them.

((Very, very weird.))

Ryou broke off, panting a little. He was smiling, and it was a different sort of smile from usual. It took Yami a few seconds to work out why.

Ryou's scars had disappeared.

………….

A/N: Aaaaaaand that's it for this chapter! Review review review! Next chapter will be up in about two weeks, if all goes well.


	5. Contemplated

Warnings: Bad language, yaoi

Chapter Five: Contemplated.

Their eyes met, and Yami knew instantly.

__

"Tomb Robber!"

"Yes, my King?" But he wasn't paying any attention to the reply, instead focusing on Malik's tongue, which was weaving sensuously around his mouth like a tiny snake.

At last the Egyptian stopped for air, breathing coming out in delighted gasps.

"I liked that," Bakura murmured from beneath him.

"I bet you did, you dirty little thing." Malik destroyed any offence Bakura might have felt at this by shoving him down further into the bed and following it up with another passionate kiss.

"Anyway, don't you thing you should let the real Ryou out? The Pharaoh looks as if he's on the verge of having a fit."

"Oooh, let me see." Bakura tried to wriggle free but the Egyptian held him down.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"Nowhere," he said obediently.

"Yeah, you'd better not be."

Despite the way Bakura was laughing, it was obvious Malik was the one in charge.

"Just let him out."

"I am, I am."

And a moment later Ryou appeared, looking angrier than Yami had ever seen him before. The very air around him seemed to vibrate with rage.

"F-Fuck you!" he choked out.

Malik only laughed.

"Fuck me," Bakura whispered.

"With pleasure," Malik murmured back.

Ryou stalked over to Yami and Yugi without saying anything. His scarred face was twisted into an expression of the utmost fury.

Yami, for once, had nothing to say. But Yugi protested, "How…how could you do that? It was really _mean!"_

Bakura snorted with amusement at the teenager's choice of words. "Aw, the Pharaoh's Pet doesn't like us, Malik. Aren't you so offended?"

"Ra, yes. I'm so likeable." Malik sat comfortably on top of the Ring-spirit, and flicked an eyebrow at Yami. "Pharaoh, you and your pet are so gullible even I can hardly believe it. How the hell did you manage to fall for the idea of Ryou and I being together?"

The Ring-holder curled his fingers into fists. Yami just stared at Malik in disgust. "You really are a bastard." He added slowly, "…How did you get Ryou to react like that? I know the Tomb Robber wasn't in control until later."

An indulgent laugh. "Oh, Ryou's had a crush on me for _ages._ Any fool could see it. He's kind of cute, sure, in an obvious sort of way. But I prefer someone who isn't so obvious with their emotions. Its more interesting." He reached out to kiss Bakura, and the spirit made as if to push him away.

"Who do you think you're trying to kiss?"

"_So_ sorry," Malik murmured, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I didn't mean to be so presumptive. _May _I?"

"I'll think about it."

The Egyptian stifled a giggle as Bakura slipped a hand up his shirt. "Mmm." He glanced over his shoulder. "Still here?"

Ryou flushed in anger.

"'Kura, I think your punch-bag wants to talk to you." He released the Ring-spirit, climbing carefully off him.

"I'm not his punch-bag," Ryou snapped.

Scornful, disbelieving laughter. "Sure you're not."

Bakura pushed him away, looking annoyed. "Yadonushi, what the hell do you want now?"

"…Why did you do it?" his light asked softly. "Why did you do this to me?" He reached up and touched his ruined face.

The spirit yawned. "Oh, so you want a _reason_ now, do you? You know why. I told you."

"Not that crap. The _real _reason."

A new look came into his yami's eyes. "You know, don't you?"

"Yes. But I want to hear you say it."

For a moment Bakura was silent, as if thinking how to put it. "Fine. I did it because of _him._" He indicated Malik.

Yami stared. "Was it _his _idea?"

"No, no." Bakura dismissed this with an impatient wave of his hand. "It was because…because _you _kept looking at him!" His voice rose. "He was _mine_ and you kept _looking_ at him in that stupid way and-and blushing when he came in, and I didn't like it because he belonged to _me!" _ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "So I did it. I cut your face because I knew then you'd be all upset and never want to go out or see anyone again. And you _won't!_ I won't let you steal him from me!"

"…You liked him," Yami translated quietly. "And you didn't like Ryou liking him as well."

"He was so damn _obvious!"_ Bakura spat out, his voice rising again seemingly uncontrollably. "Every time Malik came round he would be blushing at the sight of him. And it was _annoying!_ _I_ wanted him!"

Malik cuddled him soothingly. "Hey, calm down. I'm all yours."

Bakura smiled at him, his body giving way in the Egyptian's arms.

Ryou wasn't saying anything.

Picking up on his silence, Malik drawled, "It could be a lot worse. At least you don't have the Pharaoh's memories carved into your back."

Yami stared. "What?"

"Forget it." The Egyptian's tone changed. "Lower."

Bakura smiled again and obeyed.

Seeing that they weren't intending to move from the room for a while, Yami whispered quietly to his other half, "I think we should go."

"Best idea you've had so far," Bakura said with a nasty laugh.

Ignoring him, Yugi queried, "Coming, Ryou?"

"Where are you going?"

"Back to our house. It's nearly half past eleven, you know. You're welcome to stay for the weekend."

"Sounds better than staying here with these two." Ryou followed them out of the room, still inwardly boiling at his yami and Malik. Just before closing the door, he turned and looked at his other half, who was being smothered within the duvet. He thought about saying something, then shrugged and shut the door very quietly, not wanting to give the two Egyptians the satisfaction of hearing him slam it.

Only when he was downstairs did he reveal his emotions. "Bastards."

"Yes." Yami looked up at the ceiling and his mouth twisted into a slight sneer.

"Aibou? Shall we go?"

His yami sighed and nodded.

……….

The old grandfather clock in the hall had just sounded three o'clock in the morning, and the weary donging, punctuated with much less rhythmic creaks, reverberated through the hallway to reach the ears of the only person in the house who was still awake.

The spirit of the Millennium Puzzle was playing on Yugi's GameCube™, fingers moving almost caressingly over the controller. The lurid, artificial noises had been muted, out of respect for the two lights sleeping upstairs. It was hard to believe this was the second time they had gone to bed tonight, harder yet to accept that less than twenty-four hours had gone by since he and Yugi had knocked on Ryou's door. But despite all the day's happenings Yami felt no craving for sleep. This wasn't particularly unusual, as spirits tended to favour long bursts of sleep, ranging from between a few days to two weeks, and then staying awake again for about the same amount of time.

He often spent the nights playing on the GameCube, and as he had a tendency for winning he didn't really mind. He couldn't see the controller in his hands, but his fingers knew it so intimately they moved automatically to the right positions. The reason he couldn't see anything was because the only light in the room came from the T.V, as he could never be bothered to switch on all the lights.

Leaning back and uncrossing his legs, he suddenly jumped and dropped the controller as a grotesque face loomed out of the darkness.

"I'm sorry if I startled you."

Relief surged through him, bringing with it a sense of embarrassment at his foolishness. It was only Ryou, his pale face bleached even whiter by the artificial glow of the television screen. His scars were very prominent in the harsh, hard light, and Yami found it hard not to look at them and instead fix his gaze on his eyes as he answered.

"Oh, it's fine. I just didn't expect anyone to come in. Can't sleep?"

A small shake of the head. "No. I…I keep thinking about…" He took a slightly shaky breath. "…Do you think I should go to school on Monday?"

"I…well, it's your choice."

Ryou raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to acknowledge the unhelpfulness of the remark. "What do _you think_?"

"Do _you_ want to?" the spirit countered.

Ryou's eyes were fixed on the ground. "…I don't know."

Yami sighed and moved onto the sofa, motioning for Ryou to sit next to him. The teenager did so uncomfortably, not looking at him.

"…It's just that everyone would stare. I know they would." He was starting to shake. "I-I don't like people _looking_ at me. And talking behind their hands, and-"

"Ryou, they aren't all bad," Yami said unconvincingly. "It-"

The teenager gave a bitter laugh. "Sure. So you're saying I can just walk into school on Monday and everyone will just ignore me as usual? When I look like such a _freak?"_ He stared at Yami, suddenly, his dark eyes raw holes boring into him, and the spirit shifted slightly and looked away.

"See? Even you can hardly stand the sight of me."

"No," Yami protested quietly, a note of desperation creeping into his voice, "that isn't true. You think your scars make you look ugly but they don't."

Another bitter laugh. "Sure."

"Ryou, someone like you couldn't be remotely ugly if they tried."

Their eyes met again, and this time neither looked away. "That makes it worse," Ryou said sourly. He clenched his fists. "I just hate it that I can never go _outside_ again, never go to school, never see anyone face to face again."

"You could."

"No, I can't. And even if I could, I wouldn't want to. I don't want anyone to see me like _this._" His body shook. "I don't care if everyone thinks I've run away or died or something, because at least then they'll remember me how I used to be."

"So you're just going to give up your life?" Yami said in disbelief. "Ryou, that's exactly what the Tomb Robber wants you to do. Are you going to give him the satisfaction of abandoning everything?"

"I…I can't exactly do anything else." Ryou sounded almost defensive. "It's not like it isn't a big deal. And anyway I _can't _just act like nothing has happened. I _can't _go outside again and try to lead a normal life. Because I know I could never step outside without thinking how much everyone is staring at me, even if they aren't."

"So you admit you might want to go outside, if it weren't for the fact that everyone might be staring at you?"

"…I don't know. Maybe."

It wasn't just Ryou's looks that the Tomb Robber had destroyed, Yami thought in a mixture of anger and resignation. It was his confidence as well. Not that he'd ever been the most self-assured or confident person in the world in the first place. They'd have to find some way to rebuild his confidence, to get him used to other people looking at him again. But how?

"…Would you like to help out Yugi in the Turtle Game Shop tomorrow?" he asked softly. "We don't get many customers on Sunday, and it's only open until twelve anyway."

"No," Ryou said definitely.

"No one looks at you in there," the Puzzle-spirit coaxed. "They're just interested in buying things. And they put up with Yugi's hair, so it isn't like people aren't used to the unusual."

There was a pause, during which Ryou seemed to be considering the idea, although not in much seriousness.

"…His grandfather might mind," he ventured half-heartedly. It was as if he was trying to find something wrong with the idea.

"No he won't. Jounouchi and Honda help out all the time. But they're busy tomorrow anyway."

"…I couldn't do it," Ryou whispered. "I just couldn't…"

"Yes you could," Yami said calmly. "You're braver than you think you are. And I _know_ you can do it."

The Ring-holder opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally he said in a mumble, "Fine, I'll come."

Yami smiled.

…………

Tangled up in a flurry of sheets, Malik attempted carefully to extract himself without disturbing the spirit of the Millennium Ring lying beside him. From the clock perched on the bedside table he saw it was nearly half-past ten. He guessed he'd had maybe six hours sleep, but had never felt less tired in his life.

Looking down fondly at Bakura, curled up on the bed like a child and chewing a corner of the pillow, he brushed the stray strands of stark-white hair out of the pale, pointed face, feeling the softness between his fingers. The spirit was naked beneath the sheets, as Malik himself was, and for a moment the Egyptian felt the urge to wake him up, to tug on that creamy hair until he stirred, and hold him in his arms until he had satisfied himself he would never lose him.

But instead he got slowly up from the bed and pulled on his clothes, feeling the material rough and harsh against his skin after the smooth hands of Bakura had run over them. Feeling suddenly out-of-place, like a straight man in a lesbian club, he sat slightly self-consciously on the edge of the mattress, thoughts now becoming more restless and uneasy.

…Flashback…

The doorbell rang, loudly, jaunty and jangling. Malik could hear someone running downstairs to get it, and the calmer, more deliberate tread of someone else following more slowly. The door opened, and he was face-to-face with the Ring-spirit's lighter half.

"K-Konnichiwa M-Malik-sama," the teenager stammered. He talked to Malik's feet, cringing slightly before him.

"Hi. Is the other you around?"

"Yes. H-He's just coming." Ryou's eyes darted up, daringly, to meet his own, and as soon as their gazes met the blood rushed to his face and he looked back down at the floor.

A moment later Malik heard again the familiar cat-like footsteps as the Ring-spirit entered the room. "Malik. Would you like anything to drink?" Like his footsteps the words came out slowly and deliberately, with a slight pause in between. His tone was candid, business-like, but there was something else there too, shoved deep down.

"A beer would be fine."

Bakura motioned to Ryou. "You heard him, yadonushi. Beer. In fridge. Now."

A meek nod, the host almost tripping over himself as he rushed to the fridge. Not that he had the luxury of taking his time. If he took too long to obey, his yami would give him a kick or two to help him along. The drink was handed over, and Malik saw his hand was shaking.

"Thanks." It was nothing more than customary, the words and tone indifferent, but Ryou blushed even harder.

Malik and Bakura headed into the lounge, settling themselves comfortably in armchairs.

"Out." The spirit didn't bother looking at his host, who was hovering nervously in the doorway. Ryou immediately made himself scarce, but Malik thought he detected a faint trace of disappointment in his face. It suddenly disturbed him to realise that he thought of the teenager of nothing more than a servant, a person with no more importance in life than to sustain Bakura and do what he was told.

"So, to business." Bakura leaned forward just a little. Malik met his eyes, directly and frankly as always, and saw a slight tinge of colour rise in the pale cheeks.

__

He likes me, Malik thought suddenly, and was surprised to find how much the thought amused him. No surprise, though: he had suspected for a while now. The Ring-spirit was good at concealing his emotions, like Malik himself was, but Malik had the advantage of darker skin. He was glad he wasn't as pale as Bakura – self-control over your facial expressions was always a good thing, but it didn't extend to involuntary things like blushing.

As well as amusement, which was how he tended to view all things love-based, he was surprised to find how much the thought excited him. He'd always known he was good looking; had grown used to people looking at him in _that way,_ but never before had he felt the same way back. Mostly because he viewed so many people as his underlings. But the spirit of the Millennium Ring was one of the few people he would admit to considering his equal (although never to his face, of course.)

He studied the spirit for a moment. Ryou had those obvious cute good looks that all the girls went for, but his yami was different in a way that Malik found far more interesting. It was Ryou's face to a certain extent, of course, but sharper, bolder, and yet smoother.

He suddenly became aware of the silence hovering between them, and the way he had been openly staring at Bakura. Shit, shit, shit.

The spirit was aware of it; Malik watched in fascination as he blushed harder and stared down on the floor in a manner eerily reminiscent of his lighter half. Then their eyes met, and for a moment Malik saw things that he'd never thought he would see in Bakura's eyes: uncertainty, embarrassment, a touching self-consciousness. They both laughed, awkwardly, and from then on the conversation had been more normal, but in a way which made it clear neither had forgotten what had just passed between them, even if they made no reference to it.

…End flashback…

Malik shifted uneasily on the bed, unconsciously biting his lip. He had what he wanted, or had thought he wanted, so why was something nagging uncomfortably at his consciousness, like a child that has just spotted that its parent has made a stupid mistake? Something was missing, and yet it couldn't possibly be. He had Bakura. The spirit was just as he'd imagined – better, in fact, so why was he suddenly feeling so empty, so discontented? Was he this spoilt that he couldn't even accept that he had everything?

It wasn't that they'd had to trample over other people to get there, he was sure. Not that he was denying that this had happened. It was just that he was used to shoving other people aside to get what he wanted - and he usually did, with no guilt pangs. So why feel them this time? If that was even what it was - guilt? Or something else? Could it be because what they'd done this time was so much more _final, _so much more _irreversible_ than before? After all, what Bakura had done to Ryou…Malik was beginning to wonder if it had really been necessary. Although Ra knows he'd had just as big a part in emotionally and pathologically destroying Ryou as Bakura had:

__

Malik? Its Bakura.

…Bakura? …Do you have any idea what the time is?

I'm perfectly aware of how late it is. Listen to me; I don't have much time. The Pharaoh's Pet is sleeping in here and I can't risk waking him up. I need you to come over.

What? Now?

Yes, now. Let yourself in. The Pharaoh will be downstairs, but don't let him distract you. Make him get out of the way, but try not to hurt him or get involved in a duel or anything. Go upstairs, and make sure he follows you. He probably won't let you out of his sight anyway. My yadonushi will be there, and the Pharaoh's Pet. And this is what I want you to do…

He'd arrived there within ten minutes – the bus was just outside the museum as he went out. The look on the Pharaoh's face had been so hilarious Malik could have laughed out loud. But he certainly hadn't felt like laughing when he went upstairs.

Bakura hadn't said much about what state his host would be in, apart from a few vague details. Malik had managed to fool the Pharaoh easily enough when he said how he and Ryou were together, but he hadn't needed to feign the look of horror on his face when he saw what had happened to Ryou. For a moment he had even felt strangely angry at Bakura. Sure, like the spirit had said, Ryou _was_ his property. But still, to do that to him…it was practically sadistic, even by Malik's doubtful moral standards. And he had even felt a flicker of pity. Ryou was only a kid, for Ra's sake. (He was actually three months older than Malik, but that wasn't the point.) And this was his whole life ruined already. Still, any remorse had vanished when he kissed Bakura. It was like dying and then being reborn and then dying again; the two of them in a world where nothing mattered except him and Bakura and the fact that he was finally doing what had felt so natural from the moment when he had first seen the spirit blush.

The night had been amazing, easily the best in his life. It had been his first time, and if Bakura hadn't admitted it was his as well Malik would never have believed it.

He leant over the spirit, feeling his sleepy breathing and the slight movement in the sheets where his chest rose and fell as he inhaled. _He's mine. I'm his. Nothing else matters._ For a moment he could even believe it.

He reached out and tugged insistently at the ivory hair; the spirit moaned and opened his eyes. They were big and brown and sleepy, and so wide that Malik felt as if he could fall into them for ever and ever.

"What is it?"

"…Nothing. I…just want to say that I love you. No matter what happens."

It could almost have been a warning.

A tired but indulgent smile at the cliché that had been necessary to get the message across. "Love you too." He pushed the blankets impatiently away, immediately starting to shiver; Malik wrapped his arms around him, feeling the coolness of the spirit body which had briefly been so warm and was already beginning to grow cold in his arms. They clung to each other for a moment, Malik with a sudden desperateness but he didn't know why.

"Mine." It seemed so important to say that, to reassert it, to be reassured of the fact.

"Duh." The mocking, sardonic look which he so loved and hated was back in Bakura's eyes. "You're not getting all soppy on me, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I hate soppiness."

…………..

A/N: I was hoping this would be the last chapter, as I know more-or-less how the ending will go, but it seems like it's too long to type all in one go. The next chapter should be up soon i.e. whenever I can be bothered to type it. Please review! I really like the way this story has turned out, compared to some of my other fics – I'm not getting bored as I get nearer the end. In fact, I'm getting more excited. Can't wait to do some more of this story. Unfortunately, I do have something vaguely resembling a life, so I can't dedicate every waking moment to writing. Oh well. Review anyway. If I get enough I might be sufficiently motivated to finish this story in coming next week.


	6. Obliterated

A/N: aaaand it's the last chapter! Please please please review…I'd love to get loads for the very last chapter, just to sort of finish off my triumph at finishing this.

Warnings: language, lots of yaoi (I suppose this is a yaoi fic now. Weird. I never thought I'd write one of them.)

I only give warnings because I don't really want to give this an 'R' rating, as I don't feel this really is 'R' material (please correct me if you think otherwise) but I really don't want this fic or my account deleted because I haven't given it the right rating. I would be truly distraught if I ever had a fic deleted, especially if it was one of my favourite or had got lots of reviews (and this was one of my favourite fics to write.) If it changes to an R in the near future, you'll all know my paranoia has got the better of me.

Chapter Six: Obliterated

Looking back, Yami thought the morning had gone pretty well. That is, considering the disastrous incidents which _could_ have taken place but for some miraculous reason chose not to. He decided he would pray to Ra tonight, just to say thanks. Unless anything else went wrong in the mean time, of course.

Yugi's grandpa had been fine about Ryou helping out; at least, he said 'sure,' without concern, but _did_ look at the teenager twice when he saw him. Ryou had blushed and looked at the ground, and Yami had experienced an overwhelming desire to do some Mind Crushing. He had only held back because he knew Yugi would have been upset.

The shop hadn't been very busy, but they eventually managed to persuade Ryou to stand behind the counter with Yugi and showed him how to register purchases and issue receipts, and after a little while he seemed happy enough, half-hidden behind the till. No one from Domino High had come in, and Yami wasn't sure whether to feel frustrated or relieved. After all, they'd all have to find out at some point. But, like Ryou, he wasn't opposed to holding off that 'moment of truth' for as long as possible.

To be honest, Ryou's scars didn't look like much beside Yugi's colourful hair, and most people in Tokyo knew Yugi well enough to accept he kept strange company. Ryou seemed at one point to totally forget about his appearance, and had been laughing and joking with one of the regulars in an almost relaxed way. The long scars down his face shone silvery in the light, all too obvious against his pale skin, and yet he remained almost defiantly cheerful. Perhaps he was just blocking them out of his consciousness. There was nothing that resembled acceptation in his expression, anyway.

For lunch they made sandwiches, and munched them before the impassive gaze of the T.V, its square face stolid and blank, then Yugi switched it on and they watched _Friends_ together. Melodious laughter rang through the apartment, as Yami locked himself into the Puzzle and tried to sleep.

"This is so fun," Yugi declared contentedly. "Ryou-kun, do you want to go out for a meal tonight? There's a good restaurant this side of town, called 'Sapporo.' Heard of it?"

"Vaguely, yes." His hesitation was barely noticeable. "Okay, I'd love to go."

"Cool." And that was that. It was a few minutes before Ryou had realised the full implications of what he had just agreed to do, but by then it was too late to protest.

……….

They watched television until about eight o'clock, when their stomachs began to growl threateningly and supper was starting to sound like a good idea. It was still light outside, and Yugi caught his friend's apprehensive look as he stared out of the window.

"Relax, Ryou-kun. We're only going into town."

"Mmm." Ryou fidgeted within his armchair, second thoughts gnawing at his mind. Maybe he could just ask if-

__

So you're just going to give up your life? Ryou, that's exactly what the Tomb Robber wants you to do. Are you going to give him the satisfaction of abandoning everything?

No-oo, the teenager mumbled reluctantly to himself. _It's just that – oh, what the hell? I'll just go. It won't be such a big deal, after all. The worst people can do is stare…and giggle…and talk behind their hands…and- God, why am I so negative?_ He drew in a deep breath._ I'm going out. That's all there is to it._

"Ready to go?"

"Yes, I think so. Just let me get my wallet-"

"No need. I'll treat you."

"Are you sure?"

"Course," Yugi assured him comfortably.

…………….

After shrugging on jackets they stepped outside, and were immediately assailed by an evening wind, the cool night air something that couldn't quite be described as chilly but still definitely made them grateful for the extra layers they had thought to put on. They wandered slowly through the town, taking their time, while Yugi filled the nervous silence with his usual babblings.

They met few people on the way, a fact that Ryou was extremely grateful for, even if it _was_ too dark for anyone to clearly see his face. He wasn't aware that Yugi was deliberately leading them along paths that meant they would meet as few people as possible - just thankful that they didn't see anyone.

They were meandering slowly down a deserted alleyway, the far-off glow of streetlights at each end being the only source of light, when a delighted voice drifted out of the shadows.

"Oooh! Weaklings!"

Recognising the voice, Yami instantly materialised protectively in front of the two omotes. "Touch them and you die, Psycho."

"Now _that," _the other spirit drawled, "was an unfortunate choice of words." He stepped out, and Ryou realised he had been leaning against the wall, body masked by darkness.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Pharaoh? Or was it just a random meeting?" A devious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I suspect the latter. And if you are here to decrease Tokyo's surplus population then I suggest you move elsewhere. This is _my_ patch."

Yugi stared at him. Uncertainly: "Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill us?"

Yami Malik snorted with laughter. "Maybe." He saw the look on Yami's face and grinned. "You're lucky I've exhausted all my cravings for tonight."

Ryou shuddered and backed into the wall. The spirit looked at him in mild astonishment, seemingly noticing him for the first time. "Hmm. I may have to take that back. I could tolerate the presence of two weaklings, but not three." His grip tightened slightly on the Millennium Rod and the trio tensed. But Yami Malik merely smiled at this and started playing with it.

Remembering how Malik had threatened him the night before, Yami said slowly, "I thought Malik had that."

"Ah, but did you _see_ it?"

"…No," Yami admitted grudgingly.

The other spirit's grin grew wider.

"Can we go?" Ryou whispered to Yugi. He nodded vigorously, obviously unnerved by Yami Malik.

The psychotic spirit's eyes roved over Ryou's face, and he raised an eyebrow. "So that's what the Tomb Robber did to you this time?" A disgusted note crept into his tone. "Are you _totally_ incapable of standing up for yourself?"

Ryou clenched his fists. "No."

"It isn't like it matters anymore," Yami Malik continued in a dismissive fashion. "I doubt he'll waste further amounts of his time on you anyway, now he's got my lighter half to fuck."

Yami glowered at him. "You're so-"

"Blunt?"

"I was going to say crude, actually."

An unconcerned shrug. "Say what you like. But believe me when I say I really couldn't care less."

The Pharaoh looked at him with helpless disgust, before turning and saying, "Yugi? Ryou? I doubt there is anything we can achieve by staying here, so shall we go?"

"Yes, please do," Yami Malik murmured. "Loiter here much longer and I will remove you myself. And I will take great pleasure in doing so."

Ignoring him, contempt oozing from every pore, Yami ushered the two lights away.

………..

They reached the restaurant little more than ten minutes later. A mouth-watering aroma of herbs and spices wafted through the partially open door as they stepped in, and eyes widened at the wide array of delicious looking food. It is the custom for most restaurants in Japan to display plastic models of the food they serve in the windows and at the counter, so people can see what the place has to offer. The smooth, shiny moulds produced a slight sickly feeling in the stomach, but their edible counterparts seemed almost to have neon signs poked in them exclaiming, 'Eat me! I'm absolutely delicious and you know it!'

As well as the usual rigid, upright dining chairs, there were banquettes (like a sort of padded sofa seat that usually seats two people) with the tables in the corner. Yugi immediately homed in on these like a fly to shit, seeing as they were far more comfortable than dining chairs, and slightly less formal. Seizing the menus with slightly above-average gusto, the two lights began discussing what dishes to order.

…………

"You still asleep?"

Bakura waved a hand impatiently in front of Malik, who was staring morosely at the wall. Suppressing an irritated sigh, the spirit pulled him closer and kissed him. Malik responded in an absent sort of way, still not saying anything.

"'S up?"

"What? Oh. Nothing."

"Don't give me that. You're looking miserable. What's wrong?"

"Since when did you care?"

"…The hell?" Bakura peered at him suspiciously. "Of course I care about you, you arse."

No reply.

"You tired or something? Because you're acting really strangely."

"No, I'm not tired. Its…something else."

"What?" Then, as Malik was silent once more, he continued, "look, you can tell me, right? Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Come on then. Spill."

Malik opened his mouth, paused, and then shut it again. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"You sure?"

"Uh huh."

With a shrug, showing that he wasn't happy but willing to drop the situation if Malik really wanted him to, Bakura put both hands on the Egyptian's shoulders, pulling him closer. Feeling the sincerity of the long kiss that followed, Malik sighed to himself and replied with as much energy as he could summon.

Suddenly the Ring-spirit stopped and pushed him roughly away. "Ra, Malik, if it's affecting your kissing then it _must_ be something big. Now tell me." The anger was building in his voice, along with indignation.

"Look, it doesn't matter, okay?" Malik could feel himself growing annoyed as well.

"Then you could still tell me! If you loved me you wouldn't keep secrets from me!" The spirit's mouth was set in a sulky pout, and it was this and the sheer childishness of the outburst which tugged at Malik's heart.

"You look so adorable when you pout like that." He reached out for him, but Bakura pushed him away.

"Stop trying to suck up to me." There was a sulky silence, in which the moody expression on his face grew, and Malik yearned to hold him and hug him tightly while pouring out his feelings.

But instead he replied simply, "I'm not."

"Humph."

But despite the disgruntled sound, he deigned to let Malik move a bit closer to him. The next noise which came from Bakura was definitely not a disgruntled one, as Malik moved his head to one side and began to kiss the spirit's neck, working his way up. The exquisite sensation of Malik's lips softly travelling up his skin was enough for the spirit to close his eyes and give a shudder.

"If this is sucking up then bring it on." The words were uttered between slight gasps.

"Mmm." The journey continued, mouth moving lightly over Bakura's face, both of them preparing themselves for the moment when their lips would meet. Then they touched, a soft brushing sensation that rapidly intensified as they brought tongues into it. The kiss lasted several moments, during which time seemed to slow down and, just for a fraction of a second, stop.

Tanned hands slipped almost sneakily to Bakura's waist, then began to rove downwards. Bakura felt a moment's exhilaration as they touched the leather belt, before suddenly hesitating. In the previously confident, fluid moments this stutter was far too clear.

"I…" Malik almost desperately tried to continue what he was doing but couldn't; in his mind Ryou's face was staring at him, hauntingly, innocently sensual…in his mind this was Ryou who lay defenceless beneath him, trusting him… With real despair this time he tried vainly to thrust the image out of his consciousness, but it wouldn't be dislodged.

"Oh shit," he mumbled, pulling his hands back and burying his face in the spirit's chest. After a moment slender hands, white as those of a corpse, came up and gently stroked his hair. He could almost feel the emotion in Bakura's fingers alone, in the way they moved through the blond strands, conveying their wordless hurt at how Malik wouldn't confide in him.

"It isn't you," Malik whispered hopelessly. "It's me…"

The hands continued their soothing movements; one gently coming up his shirt in a movement that was so obviously comforting, not sensual. But Bakura didn't ask what it was this time, and in a way this hurt even more. Showing that he had given up, wasn't going to pester him if he didn't want to talk…and if hearing this thought the spirit's grip tightened and he pulled him closer, so his body was entwined with Malik's.

The Egyptian hugged him soundlessly, letting Bakura feel and absorb his body's relentless shaking. Eventually he wriggled, signalling he wanted to come up, and Bakura gently loosened his grip. A thought suddenly crossed Malik's mind, idiotic in its triviality – that his eyeliner might be smudged. Mumbling this incoherently as an excuse, he fled to the bathroom, leaving a slightly bemused Bakura sitting on the bed.

As soon as he reached the temporary haven he locked the door and half-collapsed against it, ragged breathing echoing hollowly off the smooth tiled walls. What was happening to him? He had Bakura, loved him almost more than he could say, and yet why did he want to…want to…

"No," Malik whispered to himself. He tried to say it firmly, but there was a strangled sound to it, and he could hear the hysterical note in his voice. "Not that. I don't want that. I want Bakura. No one else." There was no conviction in his tone. He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the flustered seventeen-year-old, the wild, hopeless expression in his eyes like a bolting horse. Plucking the eyeliner pencil he always carried around with him from his pocket, he tried to re-apply eyeliner, but his hand was shaking too much and the result was a jagged line.

"Damn…" His voice was almost as jittery as his hands. Eventually he managed, just about, the consequence a barely passable attempt. He swallowed hard, reading this as another failure, and rubbed it all off so he could start again.

…………

"You took a while," Bakura commented as he finally walked back over.

"I-I know, I just…" Ra, he was actually beginning to stammer. He'd never stammered before in his life. He'd thought being on his own for a few minutes would be enough to sort out his tangled thoughts, but instead the silence seemed to make it even worse.

He took a deep breath. "Never mind." He sat down, not quite managing to hide the troubled look haunting his eyes. Bakura noticed, and his gaze turned slightly concerned.

"You know what your problem is? You think about things too much. You should try not thinking about anything for a change. Or, failing that, just one thing. Something you like."

Seeing where this might be going, Malik shook his head. "…That's enough for tonight."

"Okay." Bakura leaned against him very slightly, and Malik put an arm around him.

"Malik?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do. We've said it to each other what, three times today?"

"I know. And like everything else, it _does_ get a bit clichéd after a while. I just like hearing you say it, that's all."

"I love you, 'Kura." The words felt dirty in his mouth. How could he love him when there was-

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Bakura gave his rare smile, and leaned further against him.

They slept together in the bed again that night, naked so to be free to feel the warmth of each other's bodies (at least of Malik's), although there was no sex this time. Bakura fell asleep almost immediately, and Malik lay awake with the spirit's head resting on his chest for a long time, thinking.

…………

Ryou had to admit it had been a truly delicious meal. After they had polished off the last of their food - tempuratori with wasabi and sashimi (lightly battered and deep fried chicken with Japanese horse radish and fish slices – they taste gorgeous, by the way) the two lights sat back, hands clasped to their swollen stomachs.

"More chicken, Ryou?"

"I couldn't. I think I'd burst if I so much as look at another piece of poultry again."

From his corner, Yami smiled to himself before drowning another glass of saké (rice wine). The meal had been a universal success. After ordering their meal, the two omotes had gone to watch it being cooked on the teppanyaki (an iron plate grill where the food is cooked). It had been delightful to watch the food sizzle away, the rich aromas wafting over to their nostrils almost innocently. They'd both been hungry, but even so there was so much food it was almost beyond even Yugi's capabilities to demolish all of it. Yami had refused any food and left them to it, not being in an eating mood. Spirits didn't have a need for food anyway, and only ever ate if they could actually be bothered and there was something interesting on offer.

The walk back was quiet and uneventful, which was just as well seeing as Yami had decided that any psychos that they just 'happened' to stumble upon would be sent to the Shadow Realm before they got a chance to announce how they proposed to kill them. He also shot wary looks over his shoulder whenever Yugi and Ryou weren't looking, just in _case_ they were being followed. Slightly paranoid, yes, but with good reason. He wasn't sure if he could beat Yami Malik in a fight and didn't want to find out.

They reached Yugi's house without any incidents, although the Puzzle-spirit was visibly jumpy from the amount of people they had passed, and the generally late hour (it was nearly half past ten and the streets around them were practically invisible). Despite himself, Yami couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he made sure the two lights were safely tucked up in bed. Bakura would have scorned at this, but Yami had been on edge all evening, and seeing them asleep was the only thing finally set his mind at rest. The phrase 'the calm before the storm' appeared insistently in his mind and, try as he might, he couldn't quite get it to dissipate.

………

Long cut-out shapes of darkness licked like fingers around the room, resembling claws that were trying to pull you under and join them in their shadowy existence. Malik switched on a lamp, and instantly they recoiled almost to nothing, vague patches of shadows under the table and wardrobe. He got up slowly, feeling the bed creak a little under his weight, carefully arranging the sheets back over the sleeping Bakura so he wouldn't get cold.

"Forgive me."

………

Ryou woke with the last vestiges of his dream lingering in his mind like a persistent headache, which was unusual because he didn't often remember his dreams. In this one he had simply seen his yami, far away, mouth open and moving as if calling to him. It filled him with faint traces of unease, although he wasn't sure why.

Today was Sunday, the last non-school day, and the prospect of Monday, where he would have to put up with the staring and whispering of his fellow students as they found out about what had happened to him, was starting to seem horribly near. He hadn't mentioned any more of his fears to Yugi or Yami, although sometimes he thought he saw a worried expression briefly flit across the latter's face that suggested he too was thinking about it.

Ryou wanted to do something constructive during the day, something to distract him from thinking about the moment when he would have to go back to school or, almost as bad – go back to his house, where his yami and Malik were, but somehow he couldn't someone the energy or enthusiasm to do anything more strenuous than watch television. Going out shopping in town during broad daylight was something which he didn't have nearly enough courage to do (or at least he didn't think he could summon the courage for). And, although a part of his mind niggled uncomfortably at odd moments about how, if he couldn't even go out to town then how the hell was he going to face school (let alone his yami and Malik), he was more than happy to ignore it and bask, albeit uncomfortably, in his self-denial.

Despite him doing as little as possible, the day still passed horrifically quickly. When evening came and Yami suggested to him gently that perhaps he'd better think about home at some point, he couldn't prevent the look of terror leaping across his face.

"We'll walk you back, if you want."

"Mmm." Ryou was glad of the offer, but couldn't help his reluctance. Yugi was bursting his bubble of self-denial with an unnecessarily loud bang, and Ryou was eager to seize even a few more minutes of reprieve.

"And kick out the Tomb Robber and Malik, if necessary," Yami added. He was pretty aware of how Ryou must be feeling, and part of him really didn't like making Ryou leave the relative safety of Yugi's house, but he _did_ have a life to get back to. Even if, thanks to the Tomb Robber, it was a pretty messed up one.

………

Ryou took out his house-keys and, with a deep breath, unlocked the door. Yugi and Yami stood right behind him. Yami's face was impassive, but Ryou knew he was tense enough to send people to the Shadow Realm almost on reflex.

The door creaked open, announcing Ryou's presence very much against his will. (…Yami?)

No reply.

(_Yami?_)

Still no answer.

The light sighed, and said over his shoulder, "He's not replying. I guess he might be asleep or something."

A shrug from Yugi.

Tentatively, Ryou stepped into the hallway. When no one leapt out at him, he made his way slowly over to the lounge door, with the air of someone walking through a Haunted House, where the next step may mean a ghost or worse leaps out at you, screaming, _"Boo!"_

"They could be out," Yugi suggested nervously. Ryou turned to look at him, and just caught the way the Puzzle-holder's eyes flicked briefly around his face, before meeting his eyes. It was like in Harry Potter – the almost involuntary upwards flick to the scar. He had sympathised vaguely with Harry for this, in the way people always looked at that before looking you in the eyes, and even more so now because he knew what it was like on the receiving end.

Nonetheless he ignored it, replying to Yugi's offer with a small shake of the head. "No, they're here. I can feel him nearby."

He looked around slowly, feeling for the sensation of his other half. Downstairs, quite near…he reached out, touched the handle of the lounge door, hesitated briefly, and then turned it.

At first he though there was no one in the room, then he could just made out the top of spiky white hair poking over the side of the sofa arm – an instant give-away. He stepped forward, then suddenly stopped as his eyes took in the semi-dried pools of blood around the sofa. His stomach turned over.

"Y-Yami?" Afraid of what he would see, he swallowed hard and crossed over to the furniture. The white spikes twitched and moved slightly. Relieved, Ryou walked round until he could clearly view the occupant.

Bakura was draped across the sofa like a fur throw. The source of the blood was now clear – dripping in a lacklustre way from his wrists. There were deep, precise slashes along his wrist and up his arms that could only have been done with a knife. The instrument in question lay on the carpet.

The Ring-spirit put out a hand (although his wrists were lacerated almost to the point where the skin hung in shreds, his hands were still perfectly clean) and used it to push himself up into a sitting position. The knife was carefully picked up and placed next to him. Only then did he acknowledge Ryou.

"Back so soon, hikari?" His voice was dull, uninterested.

"I…I have to go to school tomorrow," the light said uncertainly. "I had to get my uniform and things."

"Moving in with them then?"

"No."

"Just as well. I could do with some company some of the time. Even if it _is_ with someone like you."

"…Yami, what happened?" Frustrated with his yami's casual sentences, Ryou delivered the sentence with some impatience, as well as a certain curiosity. What could possibly have happened to cause his other to do this to himself? Ryou had only seen him self-harm twice before. Once, when he had tried to hit him and Ryou had fought him, _really_ fought him, the spirit had simply sat on top of him and methodically slit his wrists until Ryou gave in, frozen by the sight of the blood running down his, _their_ wrists. The other time had been when Ryou was at school: he had come home to find that his yami, almost driven insane by sudden cravings and with no one else to take the blood from, had used the knife on himself and was _sucking_ at his fingers with an intensity that was nauseating to watch.

Bakura looked at him, eyes boring into him like lasers, and Ryou fought the urge to look away.

"What happened?"

A bitter laugh, shocking in its raw hysteria. "You really want to know?"

"…Yes." Ryou faltered, voice becoming more uncertain by the minute.

"Fine. Last night, when I was asleep, Malik hanged himself."

Ringing silence.

"…No," Ryou whispered. "He couldn't have."

"Why not?" Bakura laughed even harder, eyes wild.

"…I…oh God, yami, I'm really sorry for you-"

__

"Get the fuck away from me!"

His light flinched.

"Why the fuck do you care? He was mine for _one _night! _One! Fucking! Night!_ And then he has to go kill himself and-and-" His voice broke, and Ryou realised in a sort of detached horror that he was on the verge of crying.

"Just…just go away." He sounded ashamed now, even angry, his grief locked safely back inside him. For a moment he seemed about to say something else, then his body trembled and he slumped back against the sofa. It wasn't until then that Ryou realised just how much blood his yami had lost. It wouldn't kill him though – once his shadow powers surfaced the blood would slowly be replenished.

Hesitantly he sat down next to his yami. Their gazes locked, and for a moment the full weight of Bakura's helpless suffering was visible in his eyes, then the spirit made an angry noise and looked away.

"…Why did he do it?"

"I don't know!" The sentence was spat out in a barely intelligible snarl, pain and that awful unknowing vibrating in every syllable. Then he broke, clutching blindly at his lighter half as the sobs issued from his throat. "I don't know why I did it and I'm sure it's something I've done, but I can't even know! He didn't even tell me about it; after we hugged and everything he just went really quiet and wouldn't tell me what was wrong!"

Ryou held him tightly, forgetting for the moment all the reasons why he hated him, all the times he'd hit him; just holding him close to his body and letting him feel the warmth beating there.

The spirit's skinny body shook violently in his arms, breathing coming in those bubbling, hiccup-like gasps which always happen when you cry.

Eventually he quietened, still clinging to his host. After a moment he trembled again and pulled away, sitting upright again.

"I can see there's no way you're going to respect me like before, huh hikari?" His pale face was blanched almost white from blood-loss, and the words sounded disorientated, almost drunken.

A shrug. He didn't know how he felt anymore. Part of him felt slightly pleased at his yami's grief, saying, _ha, about time **he** suffered for a change._ But this voice was quiet, drowned out by the sympathetic one that was finding it odd how human his yami suddenly seemed.

"Though not." He didn't sound as if he particularly cared. But then why should he? There was nothing left for him to care about.

He moved towards Ryou, leaning forward a little. The light pulled back instinctively, and a cynical smile appeared on Bakura's face.

"Ha, still afraid." He reached out slowly, and began to run his hand over Ryou's face, fingers light and probing. The teenager shivered at his touch.

"I know – I'm cold. Not much I can do about that." He surveyed his host's face, eyes following the paths of the scars. "You never _did _come up with an idea to do about school on Monday, did you?"

A soundless shake of the head.

"Have some backbone, light. I'm not _that _scary."

Ryou blinked.

"So cute when you do that. He was right, you know. You _are_ good looking. Even I can see that. I could slash your face open and you'd still pull the girls in flocks."

"Are you going to test that theory?" his light whispered.

"Mmm. Maybe some other time." A single finger began to move like an icicle over the teenager's face, tracing the scars. Shadow-power oozed from the digit like blood.

The finger drifted away and Ryou put a hand up to his face. "…Did you…just…?"

"Heal you? It seems so. I wonder how that happened." He managed a smile, his body no more than a husk, completely drained of his shadow-powers. Then, still smiling, he passed out.

Ryou stared as his yami fell limply sideways, then sighed and tried to prop him into a more comfortable position. He'd be okay. Probably. It would take a day or two for his powers to fully renew, less if he went back into his soul room, although he'd be weaker than usual for the next few days.

"What happened?" Tired of waiting, Yami came in, closely followed by Yugi. His eyes took in the form of Bakura, already starting to flicker; and Ryou, sitting next to him.

Ryou informed him in as few words as possible.

"…My Ra."

"…I don't understand why," Yugi whispered. "They were happy…"

Ryou shrugged.

Looking at him properly for the first time, Yugi exclaimed in loud and obvious delight – "Ryou! Your scars are gone!"

"My yami healed them."

"…Oh." He looked more confused then ever, and Ryou didn't blame him.

Yami sighed, eyes carefully averted. "…Who's going to tell Isis?"

Silence as it sunk in. "Oh God," Ryou said in an undertone.

"What are we going to _say?"_ Yugi mumbled.

"The Tomb Robber should tell her and Rishid. After all, he was the one who was last with him."

They were already using the past tense for Malik, Ryou thought with a shudder. "Okay. I'll tell him when he comes round."

Yami nodded, now gazing at him. "Will you be all right here on your own?"

"…I think so," Ryou said slowly. "My yami will probably stay in the Ring for a few days until he's stronger, anyway. And I don't think he's interested in hurting me anymore. Actually, I…I don't think he's interested in anything. I know this sounds stupid, but I do sort of feel sorry for him."

"Me too," Yugi murmured. "I mean, they really loved each other and everything. Even if they were a bit…evil." He hugged his yami possessively. Yami gave a vague sort of smile and half returned it, looking distracted.

(Love you aibou.)

((Mmm? Oh. Yes. I love you too.))

(Why do you sound so uncertain?)

((I was just…thinking.))

(What of?) Suspiciously, Yugi started reading his thoughts. (…Aibou! You were thinking about-)

((I know. I think I'm getting withdrawal.))

(You're so kinky.)

((Kinky is good. How much sleep were you planning on having tonight?))

(Not very much.)

((Good.))

"We're going to go now," Yugi announced with typical straightforward simplicity. "Unless you want us to stay a bit longer?"

"No, its okay. I'm sure you both have other things you want to do."

Yugi beamed. "Oh, definitely. _Ow!_ Aibou! You kicked me!"

"No I didn't. See you tomorrow, Ryou." The spirit half-dragged his light over to the door before he could say anything else incriminating.

Ryou smiled at this, before going upstairs. Changing his bed-sheets was now his highest priority.

The smile vanished as he pushed open the door. Malik's body lay in a bag in the corner and he really didn't want to look at it. Inside his head he felt his yami shudder at this thought, waking from his half-sleep.

(It wasn't your fault.)

((Yes, it was. I don't know what I did, but it was because of me that he killed himself.)) The mental voice was shaky, but the harsh note betrayed his inner self-hatred. ((I know one thing, though. Or at least I think I do.))

(What?)

((He felt guilty about the stuff I made him do to you. I think maybe he wanted to apologise.)) Bakura split off and sat on the bed.

"I thought you were going to sleep for a few days. You know, to recover your strength."

"I'll be fine," his yami snapped. His body was slightly transparent, openly contradicting his words. If he didn't have the strength even to become properly physical than he _was_ in a bad state. Ryou was pretty sure from his tone that his yami was ashamed of breaking down earlier, and was hiding the fact with temper, like a wolf trying to reassert its place as leader of the pack.

"...Thank you for healing my scars."

"I don't really know why I bothered." Bakura flopped down sullenly on the bed. "And don't you even think about changing these sheets. I want to…to…"

"Yami, he isn't there," Ryou said quietly.

"Ra dammit,I _know!_ Can't you humour me or something? Just this once?"

Ryou shrugged uncertainly.

"Now go away. I want to sleep."

"Okay." Respecting his wish to be alone, the light got up. "Sleep well, yami."

"Yeah, whatever." His words were harsher than his tone, which something dangerously approaching grateful.

Ryou went downstairs, stopping to swipe a magazine lying on the landing as he went. He read it as he walked, feet moving automatically down the stairs. There was a slight bump as he tried to descend to a lower step, only to find he had reached the floor. Still reading, he made his way slowly to the sofa. Patches of carpet were stiff and dark from dried blood, and he made a mental note to wash them off tomorrow.

Settling himself down, he turned the page and found himself staring at the events list for the next month. There was another disco on, same place. Perhaps he would go.

He smiled to himself and started to read the agony aunt column – his favourite part.

Outside, the muted pitter-patter of tiny raindrops could be heard tapping gently in the window; increasing with a sudden roar to a full fledged-rainstorm as water droplets the size of fists battered like bullets against the window pane, while the gale let out its desolate howl like a challenge.

__

Face me. Battle me.

But its summons went unanswered, as the skinny white haired figure in the house three from the corner shook his head very slightly and picked up another magazine. Ryou thought maybe he would go to bed in an hour or two, depending on what extent he lost track of time, so as to be up early tomorrow for school. These thoughts turned hazy as his attention switched to an interesting article, and his liquid brown eyes began to rove softly across the page.

Outside, the wind hammered on the house door, demanding to be acknowledged.

………

A/N: And there you go. The End. Ra, it's so nice to say that after writing a long story. You HAVE to tell me what you thought of this! I loved writing this particular story, so it feels a bit weird to think it's now finished. I really want to know what everyone thinks of it, especially the ending, and all reviews will be appreciated more than I can possibly say.


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